Demon Soul
by Alliexox
Summary: Supernatural fanfiction. Extra story from the beginning in the point of view of a new character. Expect the usual: saving people, hunting things, the family business. An inside twist to the early years of Sam and Dean Winchester before and during the seasons beginning.
1. Chapter 1-Heartbreak

**Chapter 1 - Heartbreak**

The night is still young, and it is getting colder by the minute. The crisp air bites at my exposed cheeks, a sharp pain that makes me burry my face into my scarf. The wind picks up and whips my hair around my face violently. In this light, my brown hair appears black, my attempt to tuck into behind my ears unsuccessful as the wind buffets me. Something cold and wet kisses my nose, I brush it away with mitten covered hands and look up. This action is in vain as its too dark to make out anything, there's no moon, or any sign of stars visible in the cloud ridden sky. My eyes are blurred by the falling snow and I moan at my bad luck. Of course the first snowfall of the season would happen _tonight_. The way my luck has been going the last couple of days, to find myself out in the cold at ten o'clock at night, it just had to snow. I laugh at myself in a bout of black humour, the noise breaking the quiet of the evening. Snow always seems to bring on an unnatural silence. Snow is also never as magical as they show it to be in the movies. It is cold and wet, it manages to find its way deep into your clothes, seeming to seep into your very skin. I shrug my coat further around me, huddling as I wait under the streetlight.

Finally, I hear the familiar noise of his engine roar towards me. I suddenly get nervous at what I must do next but swallow the lump forming in my throat. I must get through this, I must be strong. I squint into the darkness and I'm blinded by his headlights as he turns onto the street, the black mass of a car roaring into the silence of the night. The red taillights flash as he breaks in front of me. I hesitate, not wanting to face the coming confrontation. Eventually I lean down and with a shaky hand open the car door, and seat myself next to him. The heat inside rushes over me and I concentrate on warming myself up, procrastinating if I am being honest. I remove my scarf and my gloves, and hold my hands out towards the heater, my chattering teeth slowly calming down. After a few minutes I finally attempt to face him, taking in his features. God, he is handsome, takes my breath away every time I consider those eyes, those heart-melting sea-green eyes. His square jaw-line makes any woman double-take. Again, I question my resolve, not here, not now. As I am having this inner-conflict he is studying my face with a searching look. I know what he must be thinking. I've been acting weird these past few days and now out of the blue I ask him to come pick me up in some random suburb late at night. He's clearly worried but, as always, remains quiet, waiting for me to explain myself. I let the moment drag on, longer than I should, he sighs and turns away taking the car off park and begins to head home. We sit in silence as I go over the conversation I'm about to have over and over in my head, waiting until my courage catches up to me. Dark shadows and indistinct lights and forms flash past the windows as I try to collect my thoughts. Finally, I break the thick tension.

"So…. hi Dean".

It is awkward and seems to just make the tension in the car worse, I am never awkward.

"Ehm…hi Amelia?"

It is more of a question than a statement, in fact it is heavy with many questions. The use of my full name is also a bad sign, he is worried, and I can't blame him. I close my eyes, I can feel the threat of tears as I hear his voice, deep and soothing, maybe this is the last time I ever get to hear it. I gain control of myself and decide to get the job over and done with.

"Dean, we need to talk".

Alright, I am back on track, my voice is strong and confident, I'll cry when this is over, and not in front of him. His expression never changes but I see a fraction of movement in his jaw as he clenches his teeth, a sign he is nervous. I push forward, hoping momentum will get me through this.

"I think we should break up."

I let this sentence hang in the air, weighty and awful. I watch him carefully, but still his expression remains the same, he stares at the road ahead. His silence makes me fill the need to explain myself. But, how can I? I haven't got a reasonable explanation. In a panic I resort to horrible clichés.

"It's not you, it's me. This thing we have is getting too serious and I need to back out before I can hurt you too much. I don't think we're on the same page and that scares me."

I find myself rambling out lie after lie. At these words he finally reacts. He careens the car to the side, off the road and brakes suddenly. He turns his whole body towards me and says

"What the hell are you talking about Mia? Where is all this bullshit coming from?"

He spits this out and I flinch in my seat, forcing myself to keep eye contact.

"It's not bullshit Dean, I like you, but I've fallen out of love."

"Bullshit Mia, bullshit."

I can see that this will be harder than I thought it would be. I swallow back my fear, I must be cruel.

"I'm bored with this Dean, with us. I don't want us to be together anymore."

This time I can see I've hit a nerve, he looks away, and I resist the urge to reach out my hand to his cheek and comfort him, instead I grip my hands into a fist, my nails digging painfully into my skin.

"I don't understand, I thought…what are you saying?"

He isn't confident Dean now, I knew if I was cruel he would immediately back off, despite his macho mask he is deeply insecure about himself, I am taking advantage.

"Look Dean, I don't want to make this worse than it has to be, it's over. Please, please just let me go."

He looks over at me, his mask falling revealing a breaking man. This time I am forced to look away and bite my cheek to avoid taking it all back and reaching for his comforting arms. Instead I look straight ahead.

"Can you just take me back home, I'll get my things and be out of your way quickly."

He starts the car and drives on, fixing his eyes on the road again, I notice a single tear run down the side of his face, but he refuses to wipe it away thinking I won't notice and not wanting to bring attention to it. The next few minutes are the hardest I'd ever had to live though. Time seems to stretch, and an eternity passes before we finally arrived. I get out of the car and let out a breath I hadn't realised I'd been holding. Already the ground is covered in a thin layer of snow, slushy and wet. I walk towards the entrance, opening the door and walking to my room. I've become a robot, everything I do is without emotion or thought as I pack my things. The essentials, a few clothes, a toothbrush, some food. All the while Dean is standing by the door, leaning on the wall with a whiskey in hand, watching me in silence. He seems to have gotten into the same state of emotionless shock, blocking out all the pain to get himself through the night. As I head to the front door again, he finally speaks

"Do…"

His voice breaks but he quickly recovers and pushes on, covering up his vulnerability.

"Do you need a lift somewhere?"

"Dean! I couldn't possibly ask…"

He cuts me off before I finish.

"Where are you headed?"

He's already grabbed the keys and headed out the front door before I can protest.

"If you're sure, the nearest motel."

I am silently relieved at the impossible offer, I wouldn't have to waste my limited funds on a cab. We sit in silence the whole way until finally we are sitting in a motel parking lot. This is it, this is the end and I don't know what to say. I chicken out on saying anything and get out of the car.

"Goodbye Dean."

I wait for a reply, but I don't get one. I close the car door and suddenly the car is pulling out of the carpark and disappearing into the night. After a moment, I finally let out some of my emotions I've been holding in the last hour and yell to the sky my eyes filling with tears that splash down my face. I enter the motel lobby a mess, my eyes are puffed up and my nose is red and runny from crying. I ask for a room for the night and the manager hands me a set of rusted keys. Opening the door to my room, I don't bother looking around or changing, I simply lay on the bed, curl into a tight ball of sadness and cry late into the night until I eventally fall asleep.

 **Author's Notes**

 **Hi, very new to this whole thing. Please, don't hold back, give me feedback. And I apologise in advance for any errors, happy for them to be pointed out as I hate reading them myself. I really hope you enjoy the read, not sure exactly where this story is going, just started writing and liked the possibilities for the future. Also happy for you to suggest ideas.**

 **Additionally, I also apologize if this is similar to anyone else's story or premise, I haven't read too many and am by no means stealing anyone's ideas.**

 **Thanks so much for taking the time to read my story, I hope you stay with me and see it to the end.**

 **Love ya**

 **Alliexox**


	2. Chapter 2-Back in time

Chapter 2-Back in time

Asleep in my motel room, I dream, I dream of what once was.

 **Three weeks before…**

I flicker my eyes open to the sun streaming into my window, my daily alarm. Dean has already left the bed as usual and I can't help but be grateful knowing my appearance is no movie-girl wake-up scene. I hurry to the bathroom; the common theme of beige and egg shell white follows me between rooms. I set to work, first thing first I throw my hair up high onto my head into a bun and strip down, entering the shower and turning the water on. It splashes onto my face wet and cold before it eventually heats up. I use this initial blast as a brisk wakeup call, the sharpness of the cold rousing me further into proper consciousness. I let the warm water soak down my back as I shake off the last dregs of sleep. Once I'm out of the shower I wrap the towel around myself, let down my shoulder-length hair and begin to brush out the knots formed overnight. Brushing my teeth is next in my morning ritual followed by pressing contacts to my eyes. I blink a few times, allowing my hazel-green eyes to adjust to the foreign lenses and then I'm out of the room. A pretty standard start to what seems to be a pretty standard day. I dress into my signature dark jeans, black shirt and leather jacket combo. And by signature, I mean that to everyone around me it would seem to be my only outfit, and I simply have to own that concept or else be vulnerable to outright mocking from all my friends (all being about three) about my lack of variety. I take one last glance in the mirror before I head to the kitchen, although I've been dating Dean for a while now, I mean we live together, he is much better looking than I am, and being the slightly insecure person I am, I still feel the need to appear as decent as I can, I still feel the need to make some effort on my appearance, more for my own sake then Dean actually caring if I am honest with myself. I walk into the sun-filled kitchen to the smell of coffee and toast.

"Mornin' Mia," his voice still deepened and slightly raspy from sleep.

I smile, "Mornin' Dean," copying his greeting.

I walk to the eggshell cupboards, searching for pancake mix. I am no cook, but I know well enough how to follow instructions on a packaging. I set to work, first pouring water into the bottle and eventually flipping my final pancake onto the plate, I am especially good at that part.

However, as I am picking up the plate to move it to the kitchen table, out of the corner of my eye I see a dark shape through the window. I glance up quickly, but the sun makes me squint. I move forward and peel back the beige curtains further peering into the light, nothing. I search the small backyard for a few more moments but nothing out of the ordinary jumps out at me. I sigh and shake my head, trying to get rid of the last of the sleep from my head, as that must have been what happened. Still, I would be sure to check later, just to make sure. Dean and I eat breakfast together, he has made me my favourite tea, rose and turkish apple. I sip the last dregs of the hot liquid, thinking about how happy I am to be sitting here with Dean, eating a normal, and quiet breakfast with our whole lives ahead of us. Once we are both finished, reluctantly Dean rises from the table and sighs.

"Well, that's me off to work then."

Dean works at a car mechanic shop, he recently saved enough money to open his own business after having worked for one back in Missouri, he tells me. I tried looking into it myself (for reasons that you may find out, or work out later) but it must have been a small family owned business because I can't find information on it anywhere. I walk Dean to the door, reluctant to see him go, I'm not in the mood for work either. It's a Thursday, but I know we both wish it was a Sunday, we both feel like lazing around in each other's company. I pull him in for a quick goodbye kiss, but he holds it longer, savouring our closeness as if he is storing up energy to get him through the coming day. I wave him off as he backs out of the driveway, the black impala roaring its engine, its familiar sound always bringing me sadness when it signalled Dean leaving, and excitement when it meant his return. I stand in the door way a few moments, wishing Dean back, there is something about today that makes me feel uneasy. I remember the black figure I thought I saw by the kitchen window and I head to the back, determined to seek this out before I start work myself. I'm outside on the neatly cut lawn, Dean loves to mow and so no matter the weather our grass is never longer than two inches. I start to search the ground where I think I had seen the shape but see nothing. I walk towards my office, a separate one-room building we had decided to put in the backyard where I would be able to keep all my work things. I am a conveyancer, so it is filled with files, computers, titles and more files. As I walk towards the door I get a whiff of rotten eggs and my stomach drops. I stand still for a few seconds and try to smell the air again, but nothing. I walk around the grass, attempting to locate any sulphur smell yet I find nothing again. I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts, it is just a trick of my mind, not enough sleep or something. Still, with an uneasy feeling growing stronger in my stomach I enter my office. Its walls are a lilac purple, an outlier to the rest of the house, Dean knows it is my favourite colour and he had it painted as a surprise. However, I am too focussed on my anxiety and I go straight to the back of the large room and lift the heavy rug, revealing a trap door, its handle rusting from disuse. I heave the door open, a loud creaking accompanying the action. I walk down the stairs, my senses on high alert for any sign of movement, for any sign of an intruder. I make my way down to the small, damp and dark room and immediately go to open the large chest that takes up most of the space. Again, it creaks open, dust flying into the air. I look down with my heart in my throat but sigh in relief: everything is accounted for. Despite having my fears assuaged, I remove one item from the chest, wiping years off it onto my clothes having not laid eyes on it in a long while. I'll have to make sure to replace it before Dean gets home. I've managed to keep the room and the trapdoor hidden through many pains, hating keeping a secret from him, but just adding it to the painfully long list. I leave the hidden room laughing at myself, at my obvious paranoia.

Yet when I sit down I feel the comforting presence of my once well-loved gun now tucked under my shirt into my jeans.


	3. Chapter 3 -Lord of Lies

**Chapter 3 -Lord of Lies**

 **One week before…**

This time I'm the first one up, I know this because I can hear Dean breathing slowly and evenly next to me. I blink my eyes a few times, adjusting to the light though this is much easier than it usually is. I look over to the window and notice a greyish light rather than the usual sun streaming through. This means one of two things, either it's going to be a sunless day, the sky carpeted by a blanket of clouds contrary to the weather reports from the day before, or it's much earlier than I'm usually roused at. I fumble for my phone lying on my bed-side table and click the button, the screen blaring its light into my eyes inducing a squint as I peer at the numbers: 5:45am. I'm puzzled as I realize the lack of light is because the sun hasn't risen yet; I'm known as a heavy sleeper. Suddenly I am aware of the tension in my arms and legs, and my hearing is on high alert. I realize I've been woken by some feeling of dread. A pungent smell of sulphur fills my nose, and if I wasn't experienced and trained for this kind of thing, I would surely be gagging. I panic, looking over at Dean, making sure he is alright, and remains asleep. I slowly reach over to my bed-side table again, this time opening the draw and removing a hidden bottom, taking a glass phial. I uncork the phial quietly and poor a few drops of the transparent liquid onto Dean's hand, holding my breath, waiting. Nothing happens, and I sigh in relief. But my respite is short lived as another wave of sulphur hits me. I get up, remaining as quiet as possible, fearing to wake Dean. I dress as quickly as possible, flinging my pyjamas into the corner. I return to the draw and remove the final item stored in the tight space, a small notebook, old and leather bound. I creep through the house, grabbing a salt shaker on the way, wishing I hadn't replaced the gun, it's presence would have given me added reassurance. Only armed with salt and the remaining liquid in the lass phial I make my way past the sliding door to the backyard where in the semi-darkness a lone figure stands. I immediately size him up, he is much taller than me, although this not being hard considering I'm quite short. He is broad shouldered and well-toned, lethal muscles hidden under his shirt. This doesn't concern me as much, despite my height I am well built myself, having kept my strength up these past few years. He is dressed formally, in a work suit and tie as if he is on his way to work. His hands are held together, placed in front of him in a passive-aggressive stance that most bouncers use, it portrays a non-aggressive nature, yet an authority of mass and power. He considers me as I approach him, baring a sickeningly sweet smile once I stop and stand my ground, my inefficient arsenal in my hands by my side, turned inwards slightly to conceal what I am holding. We are too far apart for this to appear to be a friendly confrontation to anyone who would be watching, yet close enough to have a conversation. The man begins.

"Well, well, well Mia. This is a surprise."

In a situation like this, one might have expected a slimy voice, or a gut-wrenching grizzly voice to emerge from the mans mouth. However, it isn't, instead it is normal, even a little bit higher and softer than expected when considering his height and stature. Knowing my name isn't too surprising if he is what I think he is. He continues when in his short pause I say nothing.

"Did you think we wouldn't find you? Did you think you'd gotten away that easily?"

I grow cold at these words. I bring the glass phial out of hiding and throw the last of the liquid into the mans face, confirming my worst fears as his skin seems to burn wherever it has contact with the substance. Despite the pain he must be in he simply smiles that sickening smile, his eyes turn black; a demon.

"Glad you got that out of your system, but let's just talk for a bit Mia. That's all we want…for now".

His reference to we and finding me means that I can guess who this demon is too.

"Beliaal"

I say his name, nod my head in insincere greeting, more acknowledging I know who he is then anything else. I have faced Beliaal, demon of lies before, along with his companions the seven demons of evil: Mephisto, the demon of hatred, Diablo, the demon of terror, Baal, demon of destruction, Andariel, demon of anguish, Duriel demon of pain and Azmodan, demon of sin. Last time I faced these demons I hadn't exactly destroyed them, even I admit they are too strong. However, I did manage to lure them into a devil's trap with some help from others, sealing them inside the room with concrete and salt. Obviously somehow, they have managed to escape, and I'm guessing they're not too happy with me.

"What do you want Beliaal?"

"Obviously this isn't going to be too pretty considering what you did to us the last time. How would you like to receive your revenge? I'd love to be able to possess you and destroy this quaint life you've created for yourself, however, this pretty little thing gets in the way of that".

While talking he has come closer to me and at his last words, he lifts my arm and pushes back my sleeve to reveal a small tattoo, in the shape of an intricate circle, an endless knot, protecting me from possession.

"Ugh, you hunters a real annoying like that. What about that boy in there, how about I go possess him and make him kill you?"

I panic.

"NO!"

Beliaal simply smiles once more. Suddenly the air fills with a dark smoke, the man has his mouth open, the smoke streaming out of his body. I don't wait until he is finished, I run inside heading for Dean. I burst into the room, banging the doors open and Dean jumps out of bed yelling. I look around frantically, prepared to do something, not sure what exactly. I see the smoke begin to curl up behind Dean and I run forward knocking him out of the way, shoving him to the floor, face forward. The black smoke hovers over Deans back and I watch helplessly, holding my breath as I prepare for it to enter his body. Yet nothing happens, the black smoke simply hangs in the air for a bit. Dean begins to rise off the floor, rubbing his nose, checking for blood. I blink, and the black smoke is gone. I tear off towards my office, rip away the rug, fling open the chest coughing as dust fills my lungs. I run back to the house with another glass phial in hand, opening it on the way back to my room, I also tuck my gun into my jeans, hiding it under my top. Dean is now sitting on the bed still holding his nose, looking dazed, I fling the holy water into his face thinking it will burn and he will turn around, the black eyes of Beliaal staring back at me. Yet nothing is happening. Well, Dean begins to splutter and is yelling again but no smoke or sizzling occurs, no black eyes. I sigh with relief and sit on the bed, my heart pounding.

"What the hell Mia?"

Dean is furious. He is looking towards me, waiting for a reasonable explanation. I cringe, and attempt to explain my almost unexplainable actions.

"Well, eh, there was, like, this big, uh, spider."

"A spider?"

"Yeah, a really hairy one. It was right behind you, so I pushed you out of the way, and then I tried to find some bug spray but there wasn't any. I tried to drown it instead."

"You tried to drown a spider with a small glass of water? A spider? Again Mia, what the hell?"

"I'm really sorry. Is your nose ok?"

Dean examines his nose again, touching it gingerly with his fingers.

"Yeah, it's not broken, but could you get me some ice?"

"Sure, be right back."

I quickly duck out of the room, heading straight for the backyard. I check all around the yard but find no trace of the mans body, or Beliaal. Confused I head back into the house after stowing my gun back into the chest in the room under the trap door. I grab a hand full of ice wrapped up into a towel and enter our bedroom, handing it over to Dean who precedes to place it against his nose. I could tell he will have a nasty bruise anyway.

"I really am sorry Dean. I overreacted but it scared the hell out of me."

"Yeah yeah. Alright Mia. You're crazy, you know that right?"

He doesn't know the half of it.

 **So hi guys, thnx so much for reading what I have so far. It means so much that I have had 46 reads already! I don't know if that's averagely a lot cos like I said, newbie at this, but I'm proud. Also, starting these chapters with no idea where they're heading, sorry if it was confusing, but I promise, it'll all hopefully make sense. Let me know if I have to fix anything cos I know it started off in the middle of the story but we're about to catch up to the present. The next chapter will explain all. Any ideas on tips send them my way. And please keep reading, would mean the world to me.**

 **Love ya**

 **Allie xox**


	4. Chapter 4 -Blackmailed

**Chapter 4- Blackmail**

One Day Ago

This time my alarm goes off next to me, startling me into immediate hyper consciousness. I've had to start using that dreaded alarm now instead of relying on the sun. The weather has taken a turn for the worse. I force my eyes open, blinking away sleep to stare out the window, the blinds pulled up by Dean on his way out to breakfast. The sky is a morbid grey, a fine rain falls over the scene and the faint patter of it can be heard on our roof. I sigh loudly, holding onto this moment of laziness as I lay wrapped in blankets, the comfort delaying me from getting out of bed. The moment is broken by the embarrassingly loud growl from my stomach signalling it's want for food.

"Hey baby."

Dean is calling out to me from the kitchen, probably enjoying his toast and coffee, possibly reading a newspaper while he waits for me to join him. I colour with embarrassment, cursing my stomach.

"Hey Dean."

I call to him sheepishly, and my stomach gives another groan, crying out in protest after not having been fed after the first complaint. I can hear Dean chuckling to himself and I hide my face in the covers.

"Hungry? Why don't you get out of bed and join me?"

"Sure, I'll be there in a minute."

I'm just putting on my shirt having showered and brushed by teeth as I enter the kitchen. Dean glances up as I pull it over my head.

"Now why'd ya go and do a thing like that for?"

He tries to hold back a grin, acting serious, I smack him lightly on the arm, smiling. His grin breaks and I feel a warmth spread over my face as his beauty hits me. It's too early for this, and it's definitely not helping my already early morning muddled state.

"Not now, you have to leave soon."

Dean gives a sigh of dramatic defeat and finishes up his coffee.

"You took too long to get outta' bed. I gotta' go. But do me a favour, eat something before your stomach eats you."

I laugh and promise him I will. He absentmindedly kisses me on the cheek and then heads out the door.

"See ya tonight."

He calls out from the front door, saluting me on his way out. I salute back. I hear his engine roar to life and then disappear down the street.

After finishing breakfast, satisfying my stomach finally, I head back to the office. I've been on high alert ever since Beliaal's visit last week. But so far, no further signs of demon activity. I've kept the gun in the hidden compartment next to my bed along with extra phials of holy water just in case. Dean's also noticed that something is a bit off, he asked me why I'd been jumpy and nervous. I'd said it was the spider but I know he didn't believe me, I'm not easily scared by anything, obviously I couldn't be in my previous line of work, in hunting.

Yet there he is, plain as day, standing in my backyard just as before and my breath catches in my throat. I'm relieved that Dean isn't home, Beliaal can't try to kill him again.

"Beliaal."

I growl at him, taking a solid stance, ready for whenever Beliaal moved to strike me. But the demon merely stands there observing me, letting the fine spray of rain fall onto his wealthy suit and well kept-hair.

"Well?! What do you want!?"

I spit in his direction, anger rising, seeping into my words.

"My my, that's no way to speak to someone who spared your friend there, is it?"

Again, much like the rest of this week, I wonder as to why Dean was spared, why Beliaal didn't do as he had threatened and kill me as Dean. Then again, I was dealing with the demon of lies, there would be no believing anything that came out of his sickeningly sweet smiling mouth.

"What do you _want_?"

I push further, sick of playing games. If only I'd been able to protect the house the way I wanted to, but it would've meant revealing things to Dean who wouldn't believe me. If I'd had it my way, there'd be devil traps all over the place and Beliaal wouldn't be able to get anywhere near us. But then Dean would wonder what they were and I'd have to explain everything to him. I'm not ready for that. Not yet.

He smiles, slowly stretching his face into a sickening grin dripping with malevolence.

"I want you to go find your old pal Riley. You've still got him on your radar now don't you sweetheart?"

An image of a wiry boy flashes into my head, his youth smiles at me with all the bliss and ignorance of eyes that had not seen the evils of the world.

"W-what do you want with Riley?"

"I want you to go find him, that's all…. for now."

He pauses and suddenly his smile hardens and there is a flash of danger that would cause less hardened hearts to falter.

"I don't think I have to make it obvious that there will be…. _consequences…_ if you don't do as I say."

He let this hang in the air, his eyes moving to look towards the house, towards the life I'd made here. His words are almost echoing in the silence and I shiver, not only from the cold.

This CANNOT be good. It had been Riley who had helped me trap the demons in the first place, so many years ago. Back when we were young and naive.

 _His toffee bronze hand holding my own sweating pale hand in a tight grip as we run through the night, careless teenagers._

I'm shaking my head, my thoughts a jumble as this old memory is dredged up from the past.

I look back up to see Beliaal has vanished, the ugly smell of sulphur the only proof of his presence, and even that disappears quickly. I want to try to convince myself that it is all just in my head, but I don't succeed, the heavy feeling of dread a reminder of the very real danger.

I look to the house, thinking of the unsaid threat. Guilt rising sharply to the forefront of my mind. How could I have been so selfish? Putting innocent people in danger? Dean? My friends? Anyone I've tried to include in this false life of mine. What made me thing I could get away from my past? From my demons?

My thoughts begin to turn to a place I really don't want to go, don't want to even consider. But in my heart, I have already begun to make the decision, from the moment I had first seen that shadow in the backyard so many weeks ago now. It isn't fair to Dean, to lie to him, to put him in danger like this. I might've had to kill him the other day. For whatever reason he had been spared, but there was no guarantee I could keep him safe.  
Later, I tell myself. I'll deal with this later, for now, I have to go see Riley. I wonder what the demon wants us together for? Some hideous plan to take revenge I am sure. But there isn't much I can do, people I love are in danger.

I gather my resolve and head to the shed for what might be the last time to gather my supplies. All my old toys weighing down my pack, my gun holstered to my thigh is a familiar weight, one I had not thought to feel again.

 **So….it's been a VERY long time hahaha. I'd gotten really busy but I recently found my old files and hope to get back into this. Sorry to everyone that was reading this, I hope you come back to me!** **J**

 **Allie xox**


	5. Chapter 5- Old Demons

**Chapter 5 -Past Demons**

 _A Couple of Hours Ago_

I haven't slept all night. My eyes feel heavy but my brain is buzzing so there's no way I'll fall asleep at the wheel. Lights blur past, bright, and neon in the dark of the morning, heavy clouds pregnant with rain threaten overhead and darken the early hours even more. The occasional car whizzes past, too early for any more traffic.

I think about the phone lying on the seat next to me as the screen lights up again, its presence an unwanted weight on my mind. Another call from Dean. I ignore it, biting my lip with anxiety. He's been trying to reach me all night. I left the house almost immediately, knowing the drive to New York from Louisiana would take me almost any entire day and night. I am nearly there now. I can almost forget my worries but for the constant reminder as Dean's number flashes up yet again, another voicemail. He must be so worried. I haven't left anything for him, don't know what to say. I just hope he has the good sense not to try to look for me. I'll have to deal with him at some point.

Later, I remind myself.

I try to ignore the phone screen lighting up again, this time with a notification of a message from Dean, adding to the hundreds of previous ones. While I can't bear to answer or even read any of the messages, I also can't bear to put the phone away. Messages from Dean mean he's alive, and the comfort from this knowledge far outweighs the hurt of knowing how much pain he must be in.

I've been driving almost the whole of yesterday and most of the night, stopping at a dodgy 24-hour inn to quickly to use the restrooms, grab something to eat, and top up my fuel. Dean's calls had started somewhere around 6:30 in the evening when he had come home from work to find the place empty. They've started to get more and more urgent as time has gone on until it's almost a constant noise.

Time has warped, it seems I've been on this same highway for weeks rather than hours, the bear trees rushing past repetitiously.

My eyes wonder to the clock on my dashboard, and the time showing on the digital screen surprises me, it's already almost nine. This time yesterday I was waking up, cocooned securely in my blankets with the presence of Dean in the other room, a sense of comfort and safety wrapped up in the memory. I blink back tears, how fast that has all been torn from me, and there is still damage to do.

I frown, looking around me, I haven't noticed the traffic pick up, I realise I'm already driving through New Jersey, nearly there. I'm passing over the bridge, my mind racing, would Riley still be there? Will Beliaal be waiting for me? What will happen once I reach Riley? A million questions and worries race through my mind. But the one thought that stands out is Dean. Why can't I think about anything else?! As if reading my thoughts, my phone lights up again with another incoming call that will go unanswered.

I steer the stolen car onto the familiar street, the houses now a crisper image of the ones from an old faded memory. The Chrysler Pacifica I'm driving would make Dean cringe, it's violently yellow colouring an assault on the eyes, not my first choice in it's ability to blend in but I've been pressed for time. I thought I'd put all of this behind me, in a past life.

I stop the car, the old faded bricks of the house unchanged, if a little less red than I remember. I park the car and take a few breaths, my actions slow and deliberate. I pick up my phone and decide to message Dean, something vague and unconcerned, that way I know he'll get some sleep, at least until I can do something about all of this. My decision to keep Dean safe and to end the life I have with him paining me as I type that I'll see him later tonight and to stop calling, that I was fine.

I carefully place my phone into my duffle bag, now full again, the phials of holy water clanging gently against the wooden stakes, crosses and other odd pieces. I slowly step out of the car to face the door, again taking my time. Procrastinating this won't make it go away. I harden my resolve and walk up the steps, knocking on the faded red door. I hold my breath, staring at the cracked paint and chipped bricks.

The door opens a crack, the chain rattling and a shadow stands in the doorway.

"Who's it?"

The voice is that of a man, it sounds thick with suspicion and mistrust.

"Um…I'm looking for a Riley Bell, I'm a friend of his, does he still live here?"

My own voice is less confident than I would like, giving way to my worries and fears.

"Who's it?"

The voice repeats the question, growing sterner and unwavering.

"It's Mia"

There's a pause, and the door opens a fraction more, pulling against the length of the chain, the shadow seeming to peer out.

"…Mia…?"

The voice is uncertain this time, as if dredging up the name from a distant memory.

Slowly, the shadow moves, unchaining the door hesitantly, and slowly widens the gap. The light doesn't reach inside and the man remains a shadow, I know I'm in clear view and I can feel his gaze as he looks me up and down.

"Mmhm, Mia, is Riley here?"

My voice conveys impatience as the man continues to analyse me, not moving from his hidden spot.

Eventually he emerges from the doorway, a skinny man, maybe in his 30's, his dark features difficult to discern in the clouded light of day. He is staring at me, disbelief and recognition in his eyes.

"…Mia?"

He almost whispers the name, seeming to drink in my features. And suddenly his arms are around me, I yank myself free, fear pummelling through me.

He steps back surprised.

"Ay! Dammit Mia, its me, Riley!"

He's wearing a big grin on his face now, showing his teeth in earnest. I hesitate, this time taking more notice of his face. I can see Riley in his smile, his eyes. But he isn't the baby-faced boy I remember. His face has squared, his structure more angular.

An image of an awkward teenage boy flashes in my head again, this time he is looking at me with absolute horror in his eyes, his blood-soaked hands ringing in terror. I quickly plunge the memory deep into the recess of my mind, it had been one of the last times I'd seen him.

Riley sees recognition in my eyes and he goes to wrap his arms around me again. This time I don't pull away. As his arms tighten around me, I realise he is not as skinny as he seems, he has built muscle and I can feel him tense as he gives me a squeeze.

"Been so long, look at you! You're all grown up now!"

He pulls away from me, looking me up and down again, seeming not to believe my existence.

As he is doing this, I pull out the hand I've been keeping in my pocket and quickly fling the contents of the phial I'm holding into his face.

He splutters in shock, automatically wiping the holy water out of his eyes. I sigh with relief, the absence of burning skin and black eyes allowing me to breathe easier.

"Just the same as always _Issam_ "

He smiles wryly, his face still wet. The use of the old pet name he used to call me drowning me in endless memories.

"Thought ya got out?"

"It's a long story, but we need to get out of the open, we're not safe. I'm sorry to say, this isn't just a friendly visit"

He nods at me, pulling me inside the foyer, checking both ways down the street before closing the door. He places his hand against the wood and mutters a short incantation under his breath, a symbol burns itself into the door. I recognise it to be one of protection, no one human would be able to use that door to enter the house now. I notice a line of salt has already been placed across the door way and realise that in some way at least, Riley is still a part of this life, how much so I wonder.

Wanting to waste as little time as possible I immediately start.

"They're back"

Riley turns to face me, I can tell by the look of fear in his eyes that he knows exactly who I'm talking about.

"Who's back?"

He asks this anyway, I know he wants to be given some other answer, he doesn't want to accept the truth.

"Beliaal payed me a visit a couple times now, and he says _they_ want revenge"

"How…"

His voice weakens and he can't finish the question.

"I'm not sure, but it doesn't matter, they're out now, and he wanted me to come find you."

"What'd ya mean comin' here cos he says so?"

His question is accusing.

"I mean he threatened…. some people… and said I had to come to you."

"Well shit. Just thought you'd rock up and show em' my place? Probably tailed ya all the way here".

His voices rises, heating with anger. I can understand why, dragging him back into this mess.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't given a choice, I told you, he threatened me."

He seems to simmer with anger, but I can sense it's mostly fuelled by fear.

"What'd he want with me?"

"I've got no clue, he wouldn't tell me, just wanted me to come find you."

He walks me into his kitchen, his small apartment exactly how I remember it, the whole place one large room. I take the opportunity to scan the place. Two large windows, facing south and west, have salt scattered along the sill. The salt has a layer of dust on top like a thick film. The mattress on the floor in the far corner next to the southside wall is surrounded by old, tattered books, with ancient bindings There is little other furniture. The kitchen is made up of a small table and bench with half-empty cupboards. It looks like he isn't living with anyone, and he isn't living well. Riley watches me as I scan his home, and while his dark cheeks hide the fact, I can tell by his expression that blood rushes to them in a blush.

"Barely home, lucky I'm here at all. Got me at a good time"

He sounds embarrassed, excusing the ill-furnished apartment.

"Listen, Riley, I think we're in real danger. If they have in fact all escaped, we have to find a way to put them back. Everyone we care about could be in danger."

He nods absentmindedly, staring out the window lost in thought. This frustrates me, my sense of urgency apparently lost on him.

" _Riley_ , are you listening?! I'm not sure if you're worried about anyone in particular, but I have someone I have to protect, we need to DO something!"

Riley suddenly makes eye contact with me, his expression stern.

"I got someone I gotta keep safe too Issam, seems its _your_ fault they're in danger."

A stab of guilt washes over me. He isn't wrong. How many people will I add to my list of worries?

"Too late to be throwin' blame anyway. Seems as though we're rats in a little game, just waitin' for us to do somethin'. We gotta' cut the people we love outta' our lives and fix this mess. Didn't do it properly the first time."

Riley's plan makes sense. It's something I've been avoiding to think about on the drive here. It's better off if Dean is involved as little as possible. It isn't fair to drag him into my mess.

This is not going to be easy. In fact, this is going to be the hardest thing I've ever done and that's saying a lot.

I turn away from Riley to hide the pain in my eyes, pretending to examine the dying plants on his kitchen window sill.

"You're right, of course."

I pause to think.

"Let's give each other a day to sort out our….affairs. We can meet in two days time and work out a plan from there."

Riley nods, organising a plan of action momentarily distracts me from the pain. I turn to face him, my face stoic.

"I'll get the first flight back to Louisiana to save time, keep in touch."

Riley nods again, his heavy brown furrowed, I could see he was distracted, making plans himself.

"And Riley."

He looks up intently, full attention back to me.

"I really am sorry."

He shakes his head firmly.

"No, this ain't on you, it's on the three of us, for not finishing the damn job last time."

This remark draws up an image of a dark haired, pale teenage boy, the last member of our old trio. It surprises me that the demon failed to include Erik in his nasty little plan, whatever it is.

"We should try to find him, make sure he's ok."  
I nod in agreement, while I don't want to drag anyone else back in, it is better if we can make sure the demons haven't already done something to him, after all, he was part to blame for everything.

I head towards the door, trying to gather as much courage as possible for the events to come.

"Hey Mia, despite everything, it's good to see you"

For a second, there's a warmth in his face. I smile back, genuinely feeling the same, it has been too long, we had been such close friends that despite everything, my heart felt a little whole again. That is, until I remembered the task to come.

 **I'm not from America, please give me tips if I'm getting anything wrong** **J** **This chapter blends into the first one so I'll paste the first chapter again below if you want to catch up to present day otherwise skip this next bit**

 **Allie xox**

 **Chapter 1 - Heartbreak**

The night is still young, and it is getting colder by the minute. The crisp air bites at my exposed cheeks, a sharp pain that makes me burry my face into my scarf. The wind picks up and whips my hair around my face violently.

In this light, my brown hair appears black, my attempt to tuck it behind my ears is unsuccessful as the wind buffets me. Something cold and wet kisses my nose, I brush it away with mitten covered hands and look up. This action is in vain as its too dark to make out anything; there's no moon, or any sign of stars visible in the cloud ridden sky.

My eyes are blurred by the falling snow and I moan at my bad luck.

 _Of course, the first snowfall of the season would happen _tonight__.

The way my luck has been going the last couple of days, to find myself out in the cold at ten o'clock at night, it just had to snow. I laugh at myself in a bout of black humour, the noise breaking the quiet of the evening.

Snow always seems to bring on an unnatural silence. Snow is also never as magical as they show it to be in the movies. It is cold and wet, it manages to find its way deep into my clothes, seeping into my very skin.

I shrug my coat further around me, huddling as I wait under the streetlight.

Finally, I hear the familiar noise of _his_ engine roar towards me. I suddenly get nervous at what I must do next, but I pause to regain my composure and eventually swallow the lump forming in my throat.

 _I must get through this, I must be strong._

I squint into the darkness and I'm blinded by his headlights as he turns onto the street, the black mass of a car roaring into the silence of the night. The red taillights flash as he breaks in front of me.

I hesitate, not wanting to face the coming confrontation. Eventually, I lean down with a shaky hand to open the car door, and seat myself next to him. The heat inside rushes over me and I concentrate on warming myself up.

 _I'm shamelessly procrastinating, if I'm being honest._

I remove my scarf and my gloves, and hold my hands out towards the heater, my chattering teeth slowly coming to rest. After a few minutes, I finally attempt to face him, taking in his features.

God, he is _handsome._

It takes my breath away every time I reflect upon those eyes, those heart-melting sea-green eyes. His square jaw-line that makes any woman double-take.

Again, I question my resolve, and for a moment I lose my nerve: _Not here, not now_.

My rational thinking and emotional balance continue to thrash violently around in my head, and he simply studies my face with a searching look, as if he isn't the source of my distress. His face remains a mask of cool aloofness, and yet I can discern without question that something heavy is lying behind his gaze.

I know what he must be thinking. I've been acting weirdly these past few days and now, out of the blue, I ask him to come pick me up in some random suburb late at night. He's clearly worried, but as always, he remains quiet, waiting for me to explain myself. I let the moment drag on, longer than I should, creating a tension so thick it could be cut with a knife.

He sighs and turns away, taking the car off park with an air of exasperation and defeat. The car begins to head in the direction of home. We sit in silence as I mull over the conversation I'm about to have, waiting until my courage catches up to me. Dark shadows and indistinct lights and forms flash past the windows as I try to collect my thoughts.

 _I must do this; for him._

Finally, I break the thick tension.

"So…Hi Dean".

It's awkward and just seems to make the tension in the car worse. I'm not use to such a terrible uneasiness between us. With Dean, I'm never awkward.

"Erm…Hi Amelia?"

It is more of a question than a statement, in fact it is heavy with many questions. The use of my full name is also a bad sign; he is genuinely worried, and I can't blame him.

Dean plays a nameless rhythm over the steering wheel, his fingers dancing over the black leather in a pathetic attempt to fill the awkward silence.

I cringe somewhat; it isn't easy to see Dean so uncomfortable in my presence.

After a few seconds of final deliberation, I gain control of myself and resolve to get the job over and done with.

"Dean, we need to talk".

I turn to him with a false air of assurance; this is not a time to hide behind indecisions or reservations. Now, I am back on track, my voice is strong and confident.

 _I'll cry when this is over, and not in front of him._

His expression doesn't change, his gaze remains distant and impassive. Yet, I glimpse a fraction of movement in his jaw as he clenches his teeth, a sign that he is, to an extent, distressed. He can sense some form of unpleasantness. I press on, hoping momentum will get me through this.

"I think…I think we should break up."

Dean lifts his chin slightly, his lips pressing into a firm line; for him, this is equivalent to a full-blown freak out.

I let this sentence hang in the air, weighty and awful. I watch him carefully, but still his expression remains the same, he stares numbly at the road ahead. His silence begs an explanation, and I scramble without success for something, for anything. But I haven't got a reasonable answer. In a panic I resort to horrible clichés, _this_ is easy, _this_ I can do.

"It's not you, it's me. This _thing_ we have is getting too serious and I need to back out before one of us gets hurt. I don't think we're on the same page and that scares me."

I find myself rambling out lie after lie, like a machine spitting out oil, smoke, and thoughtless, empty phrases. At these words, Dean finally reacts. He careens the car to the side, off the road and brakes suddenly with a resounding squeal of rubber on asphalt. The car is thrown into silence yet again, and he turns his whole body towards me with a scowl.

"What the hell 'you talking about Mia? Where's all this bullshit coming from?"

He spits this out and I flinch in my seat, as if his words physically cut me, yet I force myself to keep eye contact.

"It's not bullshit Dean, I like you, but I've fallen out of love."

"Bullshit Mia, bullshit."

I hold back a sob, Dean can always sense when something is wrong, he can recognise when I lie to protect my own _delicate_ emotions.

I swallow back my fear, I must be cruel.

"I'm bored with this Dean, with _us_. I don't want us to be together anymore."

This time I know I've hit a nerve and he looks away with a sharp inhale through his nose, as if restraining an outward reaction. I resist the urge to reach out my hand to his cheek and comfort him. Instead, I ball my hands into a fist, my nails digging painfully into my skin.

"I don't understand, I thought…what're you saying?"

He isn't confident-Dean anymore. I know him well enough to know that if I was cruel he would immediately back off, despite his tough air, he is deeply insecure about himself, and it is this flaw that I am taking advantage of.

"Look Dean. I don't want to make this worse than it has to be, it's over. Please, please just let me go."

He glances over at me, his candy-apple eyes wide with vulnerability and shining with unspoken emotion. I've shattered his mask, and revealed a broken man. This time, I am forced to avert my gaze and bite my cheek sharply, to avoid taking it all back and reaching for his comforting arms. It is an effort, a battle I almost lose. I bite with such force that I tear through the delicate skin of my cheek and taste a familiar, vile, metallic liquid. But it works, I restrain myself, and instead I stare straight ahead.

"Can you just take me back home, I'll get my things and be out of your way."

He restarts the car and drives on without a moment's hesitation or question, fixing his eyes on the road again, his hard stare almost aggressive. I notice a single man-tear run down the side of his face, but he refuses to wipe it away, thinking I won't notice and obviously not wanting to bring attention to it.

The next few moments are one of the hardest I've ever had to live though, and coming from me, that's pretty damn significant. Time seems to stretch, and an eternity passes before we finally arrive at the white fenced grounds.

I get out of the car and let out a breath I hadn't realised I'd been holding.

Already the ground is covered in a thin layer of snow, slushy and wet. I walk towards the entrance, open the door and make my way to our room. I've become robotic, numb, unattached, everything I do is without emotion or thought as I pack my things. The essentials only: a few clothes, a toothbrush, some food. All the while Dean is standing by the door, leaning against the wall with a crystalline glass of whiskey in hand, watching me in silence. He seems to have fallen into the same state of emotionless shock, blocking out all the pain to get himself through this, one painful step at a time. I sling my backpack over my shoulder and pull my brown hair into a messy bun. It is a familiar scene, and again I fit my home into this worn-out, industrial backpack.

"Do…"

He falters, clears his throat loudly, and finds some measure of strength to push on and mask his vulnerabilities.

"Do you need a lift somewhere?"

"De…I couldn't possibly ask…"

He cuts me off before I can finish, although I do not know what I would have said in the slightest.

"Where're you headed?"

He's already grabbed the keys and headed out the front door before I can protest.

"If you're sure, the nearest motel: Wheat Ridge. I have a room there."

He starts at this information. Clearly hurt that this is obviously planned.

I am silently relieved at the impossible offer though, I won't have to waste my limited funds on another cab. We sit in morbid silence the whole way until finally we are sitting in the motel parking lot. This is it, this is the end and I don't know what to say. My nerves get the best of me, and I fail to voice anything at all. I nod curtly, reassuring myself of something, and step out of the car, leaving Dean and the past 13 months of my life, behind that windshield.

"Goodbye Dean."

I wait for a reply, but unsurprisingly, I don't get one. I close the car door and immediately the car pulls out of the carpark and disappears into the night with the rev of an engine and the sour smell of gasoline. After a moment, I finally release some of my emotions I've been restraining for the last hour. I yell into the inky sky, a hollow sound, and the night echoes it around me almost mockingly. My eyes are filling up with hot tears that splash down my face, and my throat swells painfully.

I move towards the room numbered 29, a mess of streaked makeup and blotchy skin. My eyes are swollen, and my nose is red and running from crying and the cold. I barely notice the peeling yellow walls, or the distinctive smell of mildew rising from the floorboards. I don't even blink as the doorknob showers the carpet with orange rust, I merely enter my room. I don't bother looking around or changing, I simply lay on the bed, curl into a tight ball of sadness and cry late into the night until I eventually fall asleep.


End file.
